


Spark

by betweenheroesandvillains



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alanna Hux, F/F, Gabriel Hux, Iskra Hux, M/M, listen we need more Hux and more Phasma so why not have both?, mentions of Kylo Ren being a Punk Bitch, pre-Kylux, the Hux family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6553501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenheroesandvillains/pseuds/betweenheroesandvillains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the small hours of the morning, Captain Sébastienne Phasma stalks the halls of the Finalizer. She expects the officers' lounge to be empty,  but it is not. A single person sits on a table, concentrating on the holopad in their hand and nursing a glass of something undoubtedly alcoholic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

> This one should have been published two weeks ago but somehow, I never finished it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Actually, this is for versus_a_blank_page who requested more Phasma. Phasma and her tiny wife are just too good. So, here you go.

In the small hours of the morning, Captain Sébastienne Phasma stalks the halls of the Finalizer. The few night workers that cross her path jump out of her way and snap to attention. She nods at them in passing, knowing fully well the value of fraternizing with your subordinates. Letting them know that you pay attention to their work and care for them will secure their loyalty. It's a lesson she learned in the first years of Academy training.

Today, though, she is not around to show her support to the few troopers that are still awake. Even though there are rumours about her sleeping schedule, it would be a blatant lie to say that she doesn't need sleep. In fact, she relies on six to seven hours per night so her senses are all sharp and perfect. On a usual day, she allows herself one hour to get ready in the morning before heading off to a seven hour shift, followed by one hour of midday break, then another seven hours of training and paperwork and an hour to get ready for bed. It's the best case scenario, though, and while Phasma likes her timetables regular as clockwork, it's rarely realistic. Life as a First Order officer teaches valuable lessons on spontaneity and improvisation skill. And the way things seem, she will have to make use of those as well as the caf supplies in the officer's lounge. With sleep eluding her, she decided that she might as well plan a surprise exercise for the HL-unit of troopers.

 

She expected the lounge to be empty, but it isn't. A single person sits on a table, concentrating on the holopad in their hand and nursing a glass of something undoubtedly alcoholic. She blinks in surprise before allowing herself a short smile. She should have known, she thinks as she crosses the room and slides down in the chair beside the young man. Where she values her few hours of sleep, General Brendol Hux II. works through the nights to make sure that everything is perfect. He looks up from the reports he has been reading, slight surprise in his eyes. Phasma is relatively sure she is one of the very few who can read in his pale face. She is not sure whether that comes from her being highly attentive or from him trusting her enough to drop his mask around her. They have known each other for over two decades, and their mutual respect has grown into something that might be called a close friendship in the right light. They spend a lot of time together, be it on a purely professional basis or in their spare time, so his short smile directed at her does not come as a surprise. "Captain." She smiles back, cocking her head. "General." It coaxes a wider smile from him, this old game. She wears the standard uniform instead of her armour, he is in his grey undershirt, the uniform jacket loosely draped over his shoulders. It is more than obvious that both of them are off-duty and alone in the room, so calling each other by their titles is just a small reminder of all the things they have achieved together.

Hux scrutinizes her through his reading glasses. "Why are you awake at," he has a quick glance at the time on his holopad and his expression turns sour. "At this time," he finishes in the end, knowing fully well that he should not be awake, either. They'll both rue it, come morning and the routine of their daily duties. He takes a sip of his wine as Phasma wonders how much she should tell him. Then she thinks that since this is a private conversation, she really does not have to hold back. He will find out either way. So she gets to her feet and walks over to the bar, filling a glass with the strongest liquor she can find. It's some ancient rum, and she smiles at the thought of consuming alcohol that won't burn her throat. A true luxury. With the glass in her hand she turns around, facing Hux. "Iskra commed me." His eyebrows scoot up and he puts he holopad aside, his eyes not straying from her. "Oh. How is she?" His red hair gleams in the dim light the same way Iskra's does, and it causes a sharp stab between her ribs. She takes a long drink of the rum and suppresses the shudder afterwards, buying her another few moments. Then she rubs a hand across her face and takes a deep breath. "Oh, she is alright. The children are down with something, though, and she is not sure how bad it is." She sighs, feeling exhausted but not exactly tired. More as if the worry for her family is settling in her bones. Hux's expression is open, inviting her to keep talking but not pressuring her. She considers his unspoken offer. Making a decision, she returns to her chair beside him and runs the free hand through her hair. "Alanna has a fever and difficulties breathing. Gabriel is a bit better off, though he shows the same symptoms. Iskra is worried, of course, but she says she'll wait it out another two days and go see a doctor if it doesn't get better." Phasma takes a deep breath before sipping on her rum. Hux empties his glass of wine and shakes his head, the lips wine-stained but his eyes bright and clear. "It should not be a problem for me to give a few days of leave to you. If you want to go and..." She shakes her head. "Thank you, but no. Not yet." She smiles at Hux. "Iskra is a tough woman. She would only send me back if I dared to come home without her specifically asking me to." Gesturing towards Hux, she grins. "Well, you know her." Hux taps against his glass. "Oh yes, I know her."

 

The woman is beautiful. There is no better word. Radiant, maybe, if Sébastienne Phasma was one to apply the word 'radiant' to a person. She wears a long darkblue dress with an extravagant cut that does not reveal too much skin. Her nacklace is made of some gem that sparkles like the stars Phasma has studied so well. Her eyes are big and bright, accentuated by dark eyeliner. None of that captures Phasma's eyes quite the same way as the woman's hair does. It's red, like a flame, shiny and falling over one shoulder nonchalantly. Phasma can feel her knees go weak at the view. Everything about that woman is perfect, from her height which is just right for her to tuck her head under Phasma's chin, to the way she holds herself. Sébastienne tries to swallow, but her mouth is terribly dry all of a sudden. Someone huffs beside her and she looks over and down. It's Hux, who is studying her expression with a crooked smile. She can feel herself blushing under his stare, so she snaps, "What is so funny, Gingeral?" Usually, she only uses the fond insult in private, not wanting to undermine his authority, but in this situation it just slips out. He raises an eyebrow at it but does not snap back as he would do if it was only the two of them. Phasma takes a deep breath. This is their graduation. They are both wearing their white dress uniforms, brass buttons shining. Phasma wishes she knew how Hux can still look so impeccable, she is sure her hair seems unkempt and her sparse make-up must be smudged. Compared to the beautiful stranger, she has to look like some filthy smuggler from the Outer Rim. Hux nudges her with his elbow. "You are blushing, Phas. From staring at..." He follows her line of sight with a finger. A short silence, followed by an, "Ah." Phasma closes her eyes and resigns herself to hours upon hours of teasing, to sentences like "You are the most feared graduate of the Academy and you are afraid of asking a girl out?" Things between her and Hux are like this. They snap, but both know when to keep ther mouths shut and when to put them to a better use than words. One of the reasons why the thing between them works so well. They are friends, they push each other further, they have sex on occasion, and they have the mutual understanding that things don't have to get weird only because they have seen each other naked more than once.

But this time, Hux doesn't react the way she predicted. Instead of mocking her, he raises a hand and shouts, "Iskra!" The woman turnes around, a graceful spin that makes her skirts fly. For a moment, her eyes search the room, but then they settle on Hux and a wide smile lights her face up. She runs over to him and throws herself into his arms. Her breathless laughter turns Phasma's legs to jelly as she watches the two embrace, unable to say where one red head ends and the other begins. Then they separate again, and the young woman straightens Hux's high collar, still smiling. "Brendol Hux the Second, soon to be General Hux." She takes a step back, looking up at him. "Following in father's footsteps. I'm so proud." The fondness of her tone melts Hux's usually cold mask. He reaches out and tucks a loose lock behind her ear. "Says the one who will be envoy in no time. I'm the one who is proud." There is a long moment of silence between them before Hux turns slightly and gestures between them. "Iskra, may I introduce? This is Sébastienne Phasma. Phasma, my sister, Iskra Hux." Iskra's hand is like a bird in Phasma's, small bones that she could turn to dust if her grip was a bit too tight. She is careful, though. Bowing over Iskra's hand and pressing her lips to it in an ancient gesture, her heart fluttering in her chest. She hates the feeling, even as she straightens and smiles down at the smaller woman, who blushes slightly. She turns towards Hux. "Brendol, you never mentioned how gallant she is." The fluttering in her chest turns into something that feels suspiciously like a coronary.

 

Hux nudges her carefully. "Phasma? Are you alright?" A hint of worry resonates in his words. She is not usually one for sleepless nights, and it's starting to take its toll on her, her concentration suffering. But she manages to plaster a smile on her face. "Yes, yes." She yawns and stretches. "Was just lost in thought." Then she nudges him back. "The question is, are you alright?" Hux huffs, leaning back in his chair. "Of course I am. Why shouldn't I?" She gives the half-empty bottle of wine on the table a pointed look before gesturing at his uncharacteristically rumpled look. Hux wrinkles his nose. "You know me too well." It's a mix of complaint and amused remark. Phasma's answer is a shrug, it's nothing but the truth after all. It's easily possible that she could describe his body better than Iskra's, and guessing his emotions under the mask he puts on on the bridge is no hardship for her. Hux shrugs. "It's nothing, really." But he says it too fast. Phasma grins, her wild blonde locks falling over one eye as she throws her head back and lets out a throaty laugh. "Oh, let me guess. That's a six-foot-something nothing swinging a lightsaber and having tantrums every few minutes." Hux's face turns the same colour as his hair, and Phasma cackles. She even ignores the angry look he gives her. It's just too sweet, watching Hux having to admit his crush on Kylo Ren. And it is a crush, very obvious for Phasma and therefore probably invisible to all the others. But she can see it in the way Hux shifts around Ren, how he yields where normally, he would stand his ground. People who don't know Hux as well as she does would probably assume he is intimidated by Ren's power, but Phasma knows better than that. Hux has never been intimidated by those who outrank him, nor by those who hold more power. Sometimes she isn't even sure whether he knows what exactly fear is and presumes he is held back from the most dangerous activities simply by a strong survival instinct. What she does know, though, is how Hux behaves around people he likes. "Bren," she says, using the nickname that us usually reserved for Iskra. The general glares at her while simultaneously pouring himself another glass of wine. "I have known you for twenty years. Don't you think I can tell when you fall for someone? Also," she adds, holding a finger up to keep him from interrupting her. "Tall, angry, and dangerous? If Kylo Ren is not the epitome of your type, I don't know who is." Hux empties half of his wine in once go. Then he stares at his gloved hands with an expression she has never seen on him before, a bit forlorn, a bit bitter. "You were," he says in the end, still talking to his hands. Phasma raises an eyebrow at the slumped picture of misery she is confronted with all of a sudden. "Yeah, but we both know how that would have turned out. Also, I'm married to your sister, so your confession comes thirteen years late." Hux looks up at those words, eyebrows drawn together in confusion for a moment before his face brightens and a humoured huff escapes his throat. "That's not what I meant! It's just that at least you knew exactly where the boundaries were. I highly doubt Ren has even heard of boundaries." He runs a hand through his hair, dishevelling it. A moment later he downs the rest of the wine like a shot. Phasma stares at him, trying to put the pieces together. "That... sounds like you already talked about it? With him?" She may not be a skilled strategist like Hux or Iskra, but one does not make it through the Academy and the following years and ranks without a certain amount of intelligence. Hux looks over to the bottle as if he considers pouring himself another glass, so Phasma takes it away from him. He can take a lot, and together they have won their fair share of drinking contests when they were younger. But their shift starts in two hours, and she does not want him to have a hangover while on duty. Poor Mitaka might just have a heart attack if the general yells at him for walking too loudly.

"Yeah," he mutters in the end, avoiding to look at her. "I... may have mentioned that I have a certain interest in him." He blushes again, a deeper shade of red this time, spreading over his face and down his neck. Phasma is a bit taken aback. Between the two of them, she is the one who tends to vocalize her interest in people far more clearly than him, and the first time she did so was with Iskra after six months of courting. And even after almost sixteen years together, she can remember every single time she told Iskra how much she means to her. Which does not mean that she is not affectionate. She only tends to show her love with actions rather than words. A soft touch, a breakfast in bed, taking care of the children so Iskra can sleep in, supporting Iskra in any way possible. It's easier than uttering "I love you," and it carries far more meaning. But Hux... even for her there are only two ways to tell who he is interested in, which are either watching his reactions or bring the topic up in one of their private conversations. Privacy is a luxury, though, on the Finalizer, so she is left with watching his every step and this rare moment. Phasma bites her lip. "And what did he say?" Hux stares at her, his eyes narrowing. "What do you expect. We're talking about Kylo Ren here. He stared me down and left the room."

Phasma shakes her head and puts her hand on Hux's arm, pressing it firmly in silent comfort. "Kylo Ren is a punk bitch." The term fell in a conversation with one of her stormtroopers a few days prior, and while she knows it's not true, sparring with Kylo from time to time, she can't stop herself from saying it now. Hux's glare could make stars cry, but Phasma doesn't even flinch. "You know that's not true." She shrugs. "Maybe not physically. But mentally." Then, because she knows it's probably true, "He wouldn't know affection if it jumped in his face nakedly and screaming." It draws an undignified snort from Hux, which was her goal exactly. She pulls her hand back as Hux leans back and looks at the ceiling.

"You know, there was a time when I thought the same of you." She tilts her head. Hux must be more drunk than expected, the way he talks. They had this conversation already, at her bachelorette party, at five thrity in the morning when they were both completely drunk and only hours from becoming relatives. Not that she would remember too much. So she just folds her hands on the table and watches Hux. "Ah?" He does not move, his eyes trained on the sleek black durasteel overhead. "Yeah. Before you met my sister. I think," he straightens his back again and stares her in the eyes. "I think that was why I took an immediate liking to you. That, and the way you broke Kathal's nose when he said that girls shouldn't fight for the Order." The memory of crushing bone and blood on her knuckles still makes her grin, and Hux mirrors her. A moment later, his face is cold again. "And then you met Iskra, and I swear, had you hurt her..." He doesn't finish the threat. He does not have to. Phasma knows exactly what would have happened to her. If they weren't as close as they are, she would be afraid of him. Kylo may lash out and scream and strangle. But Hux, Hux kills without the slightest hesitation. Hux destroys lives without batting an eye, and sets fire to whatever remains, and no-one can ever tell it was him.

Phasma rubs her eyes. "Lucky me we have been married happily for close to fourteen years now." Her mind wanders, to Iskra's soft white skin, and her wide smile, and to their kids that are sick. Some days, it's a curse to be so far from home for such a long time. Since she has a family, she is entitled to four weeks paid leave per year, but it is not enough, even with the weekends she can spend with them every now and then. It's never enough. The time she can spend with them via holonet is too short, and space can be lonely, even with Hux by her side and thousands of stormtroopers to take care of. After taking a deep breath, she has a quick look at the time. About one and a half hours until their shift starts, which means thirty minutes until she'll return to her quarters to get ready for the day. She gets up and stalks over, behind the counter. "Caf?" A second of silence, then Hux makes an approving sound in the back of his throat. She presses a few buttons and waits while the steaming hot liquid fills the two cups. When she turns around, Hux is already concentrating on his holopad again. His eyebrows are drawn together, even as he mutters his thanks and raises the cup she puts on the table to his lips. Phasma warms her hands as she sips her drink. "Damn," he says, softly. She watches him as he scrolls through a document she can't read from where she stands. "Bad news?" Hux nods absent-mindedly as his eyes dart over the report. He jumps to his feet, downing the caf like a scalding shot. "I have to go. They need me on the bridge as soon as possible." He buttons his uniform and straightens it quickly. Phasma does the same and follows him to the door, two tall and powerful shadows.

The door slides open, and they nod at each other before they head out to face their duties.  
"Captain."  
"General."  
They step into the halls, shoulders pulled back, heads held high.  
The way they have been doing for over twenty years.

**Author's Note:**

> I was too tired to edit properly, so if you find any typos and/or mistakes just tell me and I'll correct them. :)


End file.
